Longest Day
by Not2BForgotten
Summary: Oneshot...Charlie has the longest day in his life...extreme whumping...great therapy if you suffer from a bad day or week! R&R Revised Version is Up, not major, just Grammatical!


-1Longest Day

**A/N: I got inspired to write this after reading Fraidycat's story "Intervention". This is my first one-shot…hope you like…R&R!**

Charlie's morning starting around four in the morning; he woke at a dead run to the bathroom, bile rising dangerously fast in his throat. He just barely made it over the toilet when his past three days plus a lung was up-chucked. He remembered going to bed the night before feeling a little bad, and really tired, but this was awful. When his stomach was empty he just switched to dry heaving without skipping a beat. By the time he was done he was trembling and had developed a migraine. He went to the kitchen for a drink of water to rinse away the vile taste of bile in his mouth. When he finally made it back to bed he didn't think he would live through the night. He collapsed onto his bed, determined to crawl under the covers and die, asleep before his head hit the pillow. He woke to the sound of his alarm clock endlessly beeping had him, the red glare of the numbers burning into his eyes. His head felt like it was going to explode, every little movement sent waves of pain breaking upon his eyes, and seconds later his stomach made its appearance. He found himself praying to the porcelain gods yet again, though at this point there wasn't anything left for offerings.

He went back to his room for some clean clothes before taking a long hot shower, trying to wash away that icky feeling that consumed him. Somewhere between the bathroom and the bedroom he discovered that his head had exploding within that last ten minutes, though he wasn't sure exactly when. He dropped the towel on the floor and began looking for his shoes and back pack, trying to keep any thought even edging around food out of his mind. He glanced at the clock again horrified to find it was nearly ten already. He was super late. He ran, or at least if felt like running, found his shoes and backpack, and nearly ran out the door biking towards school. He had missed his first class already but he still had a chance to make it on time to the board meeting that started in two minutes. He ran towards the conference room backpack banging roughly against his back. He arrived roughly five minutes late and received unanimous glares from teachers around the table. In the back of his mind he wondered why he'd even bothered to come today. He shrugged away the thought figuring that if the day had started this bad it could only get better. Boy was he wrong.

The board meeting continued and when it was time for him to present the curriculum that he had planned out for the next semester, Charlie discovered that it was sitting at home on his nightstand, just where he didn't need it to be. He was given more glares and a talking down by the director. He really hoped things would get better. They didn't. The rest of the meeting was spent listening to the members bickering about something, but he was so engulfed by his migraine he didn't hear what the bickering was about. He never thought a meeting could last so long. When if finally ended he felt like a prisoner being sent free. His joy quickly ended as he found himself running yet again to the restroom dry heaving his appendix. He was beginning to think this day wouldn't improve, but now that he'd been seen alive he couldn't go home until he finished his classes. Exhausted he put the stopper in the sink of the private bathroom for teachers, filling it with icy cold water. He plunged his head underwater positive that he heard steam evaporating as he did. Somewhere in the middle of the dunking his cell phone rang. He surfaced, hand digging for the phone. Checking the name of the caller his phone slipped from his hand, submerging into the icy sink water. Not thinking he dived after it, fist gripping the phone as volts of electricity scoured through his arm. He was barely able to pull his arm out of the water, phone slipping from his hand yet again shattering across the phone. He stood over the demolished phone, staring. Any day, any other day and he could've thrown that stupid phone off the Grand Canyon and it wouldn't even have a scratch, but today, today it shattered better more superbly than glass.

Grumbling under his breath, Charlie walked to the cafeteria grabbing a bowl of chicken noodle soup. He was starved and seeing as he would be dry heaving he figured he should at least have the respectability of a product from all that effort he was putting into it. He ate the soup delicately hoping it would survive the day. For once he actually thought the soup might stay down. Lunch ended far too soon for him as he trudged to the next class. Half way there he dropped all of his stuff. With a groan and grumble he bent over and began to gather his stuff. Just when he was about to stand the door he hadn't noticed he was behind burst open the door knob slamming square into his right eye. He flew backwards, his head bouncing off the cement. The worst part was the student never even knew they'd hit anything. It was a drive-by-knobbing. He gathered his stuff far more quickly the migraine returning hundred-fold. When he got to class he was ten minutes late and nearly threw his stuff onto the desk. He passed out a surprise test that he hadn't planned on giving for another week but he definitely couldn't take actually having to teach these freshmen numb-skulls anything on _this_ day. The class grumbled audibly and he snapped at them, threatening tests straight for a week or two. They were immediately silent for the rest of the class.

Larry came to see him at some point asking for the equation something or other, staring at Charlie's now swollen and black eye. He growled something about not having it with him and Larry didn't bother to press him, hearing the dangerous tone Charlie had used. It was also not a good sign that his class was taking a test. He'd known one would be coming in the class's future, but he knew it wasn't due for another week. He made some attempt at grading papers for another class but gave up when he found himself on the run for the restroom. Now he was sure this day wouldn't end. He was walking through the day in a haze after that. During the test something happened and he ended up confiscating someone's backpack, but he couldn't remember why anymore. He had been sitting in his office for a while admiring the minor burns forming on his hand from grabbing the phone when a dozen stink bombs that were later discovered in the backpack he'd taken, went off. He ran for the door, sure that he was being followed by a stampeding herd of angry skunks. The smell alone made him throw up again. He gave up on going through with the last class he had and asked Amita to take over the last class and concluded it a good idea when she refused to get closer than ten feet to him. He could smell him self like a person could smell skunks for miles. Just to add something to his day he was sure, he hit a pole on the way to get his bike. He could feel a knot begin to form in the center of his forehead.

He rode his bike home at an easy pace feeling exhausted. He was just starting out for home when a torrential down-pour started up. He didn't bother feeling disappointed any longer, he just grumbled under his breath. A fourth of the way home, soaked to the bone and shivering froze his tire popped. He lost control of the bike, landing hard on his right elbow and rolling in a snowball with his bike down a steep, muddy embankment. It took Charlie about ten minutes to disentangle himself from his bike and the thorny brush he landed on. He dragged himself and the totaled bike up the embankment and trudged home, the rain only getting heavier, holding his arm to his chest, and desperately trying to ignore the flood of pain. He was half tempted to just leave his bike in the middle of the street and watch it get run over, but he figured that in the very distant future he might want it in two pieces or less. After a few minutes of walking he had to stop to itch and itch that was absolutely killing him. He continued on only to find himself stopping for another itch. After each itch he would have to keep itching and itch, never in the same spot twice. It felt like it had been and eternity by the time he saw his house appear on the foggy horizon. He dropped the bike outside the front door with his soaked muddy shoes. His father had opened the door for him and had said he could smell him coming. He simply continued to grumble, dragging himself up the stairs to the shower before his father even had a chance to comment on his elbow which was now visibly swollen, even through his sweater.

He used the best aromatic soaps they had in the house scrubbing his skin raw trying to get rid of the awful smell. When he remembered who's backpack he'd taken he was going to suspend them for the rest of their unnatural life. He got out when his dad banged on the door complaining about him being in there for two hours. He stared at himself in the mirror before getting dressed. He was covered in numerous large scratches, what wasn't scratched was a bright pinkish-red and itched mercilessly. His elbow was swollen three times its natural size and looked like it was resting at an awkward angle. It had to be broken. He was getting dressed when he suddenly remembered where is bed was. The discovery was certainly not a gentle discovery at all. He was turning around to head down stairs when his foot slammed against the iron legs on his bed. He fell over, swearing the entire way down. He held his throbbing foot, in too much pain to see straight, afraid to see the damage he'd done to his foot. He gritted his teeth and looked at his foot, groaning in agony of the sight. The two toes to the left of his big toe stuck out at unnaturally strange angles and visibly throbbed like in the cartoons, on his left foot.

Alan heard the loud sailor mouth ruckus above and figured he should see what his son would be destroying in a few moments. He'd known the moment his son was having a bad day the moment he saw him come into the house grumbling under his breath, no shoes or bike, covered in mud, splotches of lobster red already appearing on his face, and a stench that could stun a horse hovering over his son. He'd noticed his son holding his right arm to his chest but his son was in the shower before he could ask any questions. He climbed the stairs at a steady pace, wondering what had happened when his son was suddenly silent. He opened the door to the bedroom. His son lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling a look of defeat on his face, one arm stretched as far to the side as it could, the other arm laying at a ninety degree angle on his stomach.

"I give up…this day is over." Alan smiled. He couldn't help but laugh at the pitiful sight of his son. He took opportunity of Charlie's lack of movement to examine what was actually wrong with his son. His son seemed to have broken his elbow, two toes were clearly broken, he had a few small burns on his right hand, half his face was now a lobster red, beginning to swell, and was clearly poison ivy. He had a knot in the center of his forehead and a black eye.

"Well, it looks as if you've had a wonderful day, you shouldn't quit now the fun has only just begun." Charlie just glared at his father. He was far too happy today. His cheerfulness got on his nerves. If he had to be this miserable today, then so did everybody else. What little skin of his didn't itch felt like it was burning, his one good eye ached and burned at the sight of even the faintest light, he was contemplating just chopping his head off to be rid himself of the migraine, he felt cold and hot at the same time, and he could feel another run of puking coming on. He began his difficult climb to standing, creaking, popping, and groaning as he went. Alan fought a laugh back as he watched his son hop on one foot, still holding his elbow to his chest, as fast as he could towards the bathroom, the good hand clamped tightly over his mouth. Alan could hear the acoustics of vomiting echo through the bathroom door for the next twenty minutes. He made green jell-o to occupy his time until his son was finished. Then he took him to the hospital.

They waited for an hour at the hospital. Charlie slouched into his chair and made a minor attempt at sleeping. All hopes of sleep were dashed away when someone not paying attention went running past, stepping on both broken toes as they flashed by. He was seen by a nurse ten minutes later. They ex-rayed his elbow and put it in a cast, taped his toes together after resetting them, his eyes crossed at that part. By the time he got home all he could do was collapse onto the couch. Alan was pleased to see him finally getting some sleep. The flu alone was hitting his son hard. He'd heard him early that morning and had received sympathetic phone calls from both Larry and Amita, where he learned that Charlie had been constantly throwing up all day. Once Charlie was snoring, he came through and sprayed the living room heavily with Febreeze. Charlie may have been in the shower for two hours, but the smell still lingered strongly. The thoughts about the flu inspired him to make chicken noodle soup…just what Charlie needed right now.

Charlie was dozing in and out of sleep when he heard the doorbell ring with a slight jarring. He heard his father answer the door and a discussion took place followed by someone coming into the house. He drifted back into sleep right about then. The kid was finished with what he'd been paid to do. The old man wasn't paying attention to him so he decided to take advantage of his inattention and explore the house. He didn't want to leave yet, it was cold and raining outside. He wandered around upstairs, pocketing some loose cash he found on a table as he went. He wandered back downstairs and found this guy snoring on the couch. He leaned very close to his face, scrunching his nose. There was this icky aroma surrounding the guy, he probably needed a tic-tac. That was when he got an idea. He pulled out his slingshot and a green tic-tac from his pocket. He'd seen this in a movie and always wanted to try it for himself. He loaded the slingshot and stretched it taut, aiming for the guy's open mouth while he snored. He let it go.

The first Charlie knew was that he couldn't breathe. He was sure he'd been shot. He flew off the couch in a roll hitting the coffee with his head. He briefly saw a kid standing over him with a devilish grin but the next minute he was gone. He lay between the couch and table choking, trying to breathe. He heard his dad shout something, he tried to answer but he couldn't breathe. He heard his father come behind him grabbing him around the chest painfully and beginning the Heimlich maneuver. He continued to gasp for breathe. Suddenly a green tic-tac zinged from his throat, hitting the TV with a chink and flew back at them, hitting Charlie in the eye. He groaned and plopped onto the couch. His father just looked at him for a moment. His good eye could no longer count as good since it was already beginning to blacken and he could feel the blood dripping down the side of his face from the gash above his eyebrow.

"Well, you have two options; you may go to the hospital now to get that stitched up, or you can wait until I finish the dishes then go to the hospital. Which shall it be?"

"I think I'll wait for the dishes." His father nodded and brought him a towel to slow the bleeding with. Charlie leaned his head back holding the towel to his head with his left hand. He was nearly asleep again when he heard a crash in the kitchen. He dropped the towel and ran into the kitchen to see what happened. He froze dead in his tracks. He felt the piercing agony as a long slender shard of glass sinking deep into the flesh of his foot. He saw his father holding a dust pan and a broom in each hand staring at him. Charlie just groaned, hopping towards a chair. His father waited until he'd made it to a chair before continuing to sweep up the glass remains of a plate. Charlie examined his foot. The glass shard had sunk deep into his foot and then was pushed flat giving him a deep gash that originated from a puncture. He pulled out the glass not caring whether it was smart or not. The wound bled freely. Grumbling he went upstairs to grab his laptop, walking only on the heel of his foot. If he had to go to the hospital again, he would at least be entertained. He grabbed it and went to the stairs. He was just headed to the first step when he overshot it and fell head over heel down the stairs, back flip after back flip. When he finally came to a complete stop, lying flat on his back, he just laid there. He didn't want to get up. He just wanted to lay there and die. His father came running to him.

"Charlie, are you okay? What happened?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Just leave me here to die, I give up."

"You still haven't told me what you did."

"I jumped down the stairs" Alan rolled his eyes.

"Do I need to call the ambulance or are you going to pick a foot to use and make it to the car."

"What's wrong with my other foot?" Charlie raised his head off the floor high enough to look at his feet. The foot without the gash was angled funny and he could slightly see a bone poking out. "I'll use the foot with the gash." Alan helped Charlie sit up and eventually stand. He had been unsure which arm to pull on to get his son up, seeing that although Charlie didn't seem to notice, his wrist now looked very broken, just like his foot. He hobbled to the car and fell asleep almost instantly. The hospital visit was thankfully uneventful. They did the x-rays and put a cast on his wrist and ankle, and stitching the gash on his foot which they measured at four inches and the gash above his eyebrow which measured at eight inches. They ended this wonderful visit with stronger pain relievers and a lovely Tetanus shot. Alan never would know how he managed to get Charlie back onto the couch when they got home. Alan finally got to finish the dishes when he heard Charlie shouting from the couch.

"Dad, bucket, I need a bucket!" He grabbed the nearest pot and ran for Charlie, just barely making it before Charlie began a rampage of vomiting. He rubbed his son's back until he was finished. When Charlie surface out of the pot they both realized that they both forgot to pull his hair out of the way. They both grimaced at the mess. Alan dragged a chair for Charlie to kneel on to the kitchen sink. He hung over the sink while his father washed his hair clean. He hated this. He wanted to wash his hair himself but he didn't have the use of either hands or feet. Somewhere along the washing Charlie was taking a deep breath to become a sigh when his father accidentally shot water up his nose with the sink sprayer. He coughed and spluttered, eyes watering, nose burning. After things calmed from the incident he got soap in his eyes. That was when he gave up. His father finished rinsing his hair then toweled Charlie's hair as dry as he would let him and helped him back to the couch. Charlie was exhausted and miserable. He fell asleep before he even hit the couch pillow.

**:-:-:-:-:-:**

Don came home in a good mood. He was having a superb day. They had solved the case they were working on in three days and no one had been hurt in the process. His glee only increased when he realized he would get to go home early. He decided to go see how his brother's day had gone and enjoy some of his father's cooking. He dropped his jacket in the entry way and went straight to the kitchen. His father was talking on the phone so he went to the fridge to occupy his time until his father was finished. He knew something was wrong when he found the fridge jammed packed with nothing but home made chicken soup and green jell-o. His father finished the phone call and made an announcement before Don could get a single word out.

"Donnie, I've decided that Charlie would be safer as an F.B.I agent than a math professor." Don just stared at him. Alan laughed at his shocked expression. That was the last thing his son had expected to hear and his expression said it all. "Go check on your brother; make sure he's still breathing. He's on the couch" Don just nodded looking at his father suspiciously. He walked slowly to the couch fearful of what he would find. He found his brother laying on the couch two black eyes, a huge gash over his right eye, his left wrist was in a cast, his right elbow was also in a cast along with his ankle, the other foot had a wad of bandages all down his foot, a strange aroma that he definitely didn't like hovered over his brother, and a pot with a lid thankful on it sat next to the couch and gave the faint smell of vomit even with the lid on. He couldn't stop himself.

"What happened to you?" His brother jolted awake, glaring evilly at him. At least it looked like it was supposed to be a glare, it was hard to tell past the black eyes.

"When I get off this couch I'm gonna kill you!" Don scoffed at his brother's threat but then ran half mockingly half seriously out of the house for his life. When he arrived back at the office his team still there in the middle of a leisurely conversation they just stared at him. They'd intended to head home not long after he'd left but then they got caught up in the conversation and hadn't left yet. Don had only left roughly half and hour ago and was already back.

"What happened to going home early?"

"I had to come back to recruit you three as body guards"

"Bodyguards?" They asked in unison.

"Yup, I came home to my father telling me that he'd decided my job was the safer profession than Charlie's" Now they all stared at him with the same expression he'd worn when he heard the same thing. "If you come home with me you can see exactly what I'm talking about, my dad will even feed you," they all nodded awkwardly and gathered their stuff following him out to their cars, "and don't forget, your supposed to take a bullet for me." They all filed into the house quietly and followed Don to the living room and stared at Charlie who was sleeping again. Don's eyes suddenly lit up with the typical evil brother mischief that he rarely let show through with others present. He pounced silently upstairs and then returned just as silently, an evil grin widening across his face, and object that his team couldn't see clearly enough to identify in his hand behind his back. Before anyone could stop him he whipped the object out from behind his back, setting off the air horn in one long, loud blast. Charlie shot straight up then fell back to the couch, glaring at his brother.

"Colby hit him really hard for me." Colby whipped around smacking Don upside the head really hard before Don had the chance to doge.

"OW! I though you were supposed to be my body guards."

"Your suicidal…you really think we could protect you against that? No, way. I choose life." Alan stepped into the room and announced that dinner was ready. Seeing that Colby was in Charlie's good graces, he was elected to help Charlie to the table. It was slow going. When they made it to the table Charlie took one look at the food and threw up. Don would later swear that he'd been aiming for him and Charlie would agree. Colby quickly set Charlie down on the chair pretending to be sympathetic for Don but failed. Especially when just as Charlie sat down on the chair it collapsed beneath him in a shower of splinters.

"I give up. Someone help me to the bedroom…lay me down to die." They all fought desperately to hide their smirks of humor. They were having trouble feeling sorry for him and not laughing at his horrible day. They all listened silently as both Don and Charlie made their way up the stairs a chorus of sailor's language continuing until Don was in the shower and Charlie in bed at last. They then continued with dinner, Alan detailing the horrors of Charlie's day. Thus ended the longest day in Charlie Eppes's day.

**A/N: How was that? That was my first oneshot and I just couldn't leave the whumping alone. Aren't we glad Charlie didn't die! I know if I had that day I would have died and considered it a blessing…please review! P.S this is the revised version!**


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